


underneath the smoke

by Hymn



Series: Hymn's Fic: Katekyo Hitman Reborn Collection [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Smoking, UST, blossoming relationship lmao, erections lol, i probably would have been safe just rating this teen but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: They break into Nami Junior High because they’re idiots and restless and it’s too hot over summer break. Sasagawa had been adamant about going to the beach, but somehow or another they could never set a date that worked for all of them, so, instead, one evening Yamamoto got a mischievous look in his eye and, well --Here they are.





	underneath the smoke

**Author's Note:**

> a rewrite of a ficlet i wrote a verrrry long time ago

They break into Nami Junior High because they’re idiots and restless and it’s too hot over summer break. Sasagawa had been adamant about going to the beach, but somehow or another they could never set a date that worked for all of them, so, instead, one evening Yamamoto got a mischievous look in his eye and, well --

Here they are.

“This is a dumb idea,” Hayato points out after they clamber over the chainlink fence. “That Hibari is gonna find us out, somehow, and --”

Yamamoto shoves him between the shoulder blades and Hayato goes right on into the water with a splash. It’s cool, but not cold, and dark -- the world above is a wavering indigo spotted with lights and vague silhouettes. For a moment after Hayato gets his bearings, he stops and just floats. It’s kind of nice.

Then he breaks the surface of the water with a snarl, and thrashes his way towards where Yamamoto is laughing and playfully pretending to cower behind the Tenth. It won’t be a help, though, and Hayato grins, ruthless and determined.

Vengeance is definitely gonna be his.

\----

Tsuna opts out of swimming despite all of them already having seen the spectacle. “I’m fine up here,” he insists with a wincing kind of grin. Then he adds, _sotto voce_, “It’ll give me a better head start when Hibari-san finds us,” with a nervous glance at the darkest corners. The rest of them -- Yamamoto, Sasagawa, Fuuta and the kids -- don’t mind, though Hayato can’t help but be a little wistful.

He kind of wants to see his boss shirtless and wet under the moonlight.

For a little while it’s fun to just splash about with the rest; there’s something entirely too exciting about being back at their old school and trespassing so blatantly. Something childish and raw and intentional, a brief respite. And Hayato likes the water well enough. But the thing about playing about in the water is that it’s not exactly the best for smoking, and Hayato’s starting to get that restless urge under his skin, so he swims over to Tsuna’s bit of poolside.

“Hey, Boss,” he says, hauling himself part way up onto the concrete and bobbing near where Tsuna has his feet dipped into the deeper water. “Could you do me a favor?”

Tsuna’s already wrinkling his nose. “Your cigarettes?”

Huffing out a laugh, Hayato leans a little closer, unable to resist. He’s dripping and hanging off the side of the pool like a miscreant, hair no doubt a sodden mess clinging weirdly to his cheeks, but he gives Tsuna his best hopeful expression. “You know me so well, Boss. Please? I left them next to your bag.”

Tsuna twitches, sighs and gets up; Hayato tries not to thrill too obviously but it’s hard. He’s Vongola’s, but more than that he’s _Tsuna’s_, his right hand man -- and it means something special to him every time Tsuna dotes on him, no matter how reluctant he plays it. Maybe especially then.

“You’re almost out,” Tsuna tells him, clambering gracelessly back to his spot on the edge, just a little closer to Hayato than he’d been before.

“Thanks. I know. But I appreciate --”

“We can stop at a conbini on the way back,” Tsuna cuts in, voice a thoughtful murmur as he fishes out a cigarette from the pack. “The kids’ll probably be hungry. Ryohei-nii-san will _definitely_ be hungry.”

Faintly, Hayato says, “Thanks,” and thinks about how much he loves his boss and the way he cares for them, all of them, all the time and wholeheartedly, like it’s the most important thing he’ll ever do. Then he clears his throat and shifts a little closer, says, “Thanks for grabbing my smokes,” a little steadier, ready to reach out and grasp the cigarette the Tenth hands to him, but --

Tsuna tucks the filter between his lips and flips open Hayato’s zippo.

“Uh,” says Hayato, blinking.

It isn’t often that Tsuna smokes -- he hates it, really, isn’t a fan of the smell and how it lingers. Always wrinkles his nose whenever Hayato shows up for class stinking like he’s been chain smoking. Admittedly, that’s usually because Hayato likely _was_ chain smoking; he tended to whenever working out new trajectory calculations. But despite his dislike Tsuna had been curious, and so Hayato had taught him how to smoke and not look like he’d never done it before. Now, every once in a while, Tsuna will -- will do _this_.

And fuck, but every time it’s like a shock straight to Hayato’s dick.

His boss works his jaw, the cigarette shifting between his lips so the end is caught in the bright flare of the lighter. He sucks steadily, just like Hayato showed him, exhaling the first good drag in a long pale stream of smoke out of gorgeously pursed lips. Hayato is staring; he knows he’s being obviously about it, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Here,” Tsuna says, voice hitching a little thickly as he stubbornly fights not to cough. “Take a drag.”

“You... What?”

Gingerly, Tsuna tucks the cigarette back between his lips so he can change his grip, taking the top edge of filter delicately between finger and thumb. He uses his new hold to flip the cigarette around and offer it to Hayato, eyebrows flicking up in nervous encouragement.

Hayato can’t quite breathe all of a sudden, and it has nothing to do with the smoke. It’s more intimate than it should be, gripping the rough cement ledge and levering his body further up out of the water so that he can lean over the Tenth’s thigh, press his lips against warm skin and take the offered drag; Tsuna’s eyes are steady, dark in the night and close on his, and Hayato eases back into the pool on a sharp inhale, slow exhale.

“Thanks,” he manages, voice lower than he meant it to be. He clears his throat, some of the smoke streaming out his nostrils in his distraction; he’d grit his teeth on reflex, barely able to handle the sensual nature of the gesture.

Above him, Tsuna blushes dark enough that Hayato can see it, even by moon- and star-shine. Almost fumbling, he brings the cigarette up to his own mouth. This time, his boss doesn’t even come close to coughing on the exhale. 

“S-sure,” Tsuna says, smoke clouding the air.

He offers the cigarette again. 

Hayato rises up out of the water obediently, skin tingling, chest squeezing too tight. Tsuna’s grip has shifted; Hayato’s upper lip catches against the callused edge of Tsuna’s finger, and Hayato... 

Hayato presses _closer_, holding there a moment while he thinks about Tsuna’s fingers in his mouth, pressing against his tongue to pry him open, until he’s panting, full of hunger and burning all over with _wanting_.

He feels halfway there already.

The way his boss stares down at him like he might possibly be thinking the same is enough to have Hayato flushing this time, shivering in the balmy air, the tepid water. 

Around them the rest of Vongola is laughing, carefree. Happy and wonderful, safe and secure; there’s nothing to distract Hayato from this moment down at the deep end where he feels like he’s drowning, where he can’t catch his breath and it has nothing to do with his lungs expanding full of smoke. It has, instead, everything to do with the way the world seems closed in, enveloping him and his boss, like this night and this moment was carved out of time just for them.

The fifth inhale and the cigarette is burning down, ash floating in the water to disappear. Tsuna doesn’t hold his hand out to the side, but instead shifts, spreads his knees a little and waits for Hayato to swim around between his parted thighs, hands curling wet and slick behind Tsuna’s knees.

“Boss,” Hayato grates out, voice gone even lower and rough all over.

Tsuna’s free hand curls like a secret against the bare skin of Hayato’s shoulder. He can’t help the soft noise he makes, a little wounded, or the hard shudder that makes the water ripple around them. “_Boss_,” he says, again, because he doesn’t know how to unpack all the things that Tsuna means to him, not without exhausting all the words in all the languages he knows; and even then, he thinks, he’d come up wanting.

“Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna murmurs back, a shy curl to the way he says it. He leans back, his spine arching so he can tip his head up as he takes a long drag. His hand curls over the tensed muscle of Hayato’s shoulder, thumb pressing against the base of his throat and he’s too beautiful in the night with the distant lights catching soft against the planes and angles of his face, bright in his hair and his eyes with his features shrouded in smoke.

This time, Hayato’s “Boss!” comes out as a needy little groan.

He can’t even be ashamed of himself; his dick is hard and he’s half-submerged in a pool, but he’s between the Tenth’s thighs with the Tenth’s hand on him, being hand-fed nicotine. If this isn’t flirting with intent then Hayato doesn’t fucking know what _is_.

“Please,” he breathes out, not even sure what he’s asking for anymore.

But Tsuna seems to know. His chin drops down and his eyes with it, focusing right on Hayato’s mouth and staring. His hand trembles, just a little, holding the cigarette out for Hayato one last time; the warm fingers on Hayato’s skin slide up, hesitant but determined, to twist into the wet strands of his hair, tugging gently. It’s all Hayato can do not to moan outright.

He takes too long inhaling, distracted by Tsuna’s closeness, his hands, the way they feel on Hayato’s skin. The cigarette is crumbling to ash between them, the whole world still and heavy, full of an unvoiced, seductive promise, and Hayato wants too much to climb up into Tsuna’s lap and kiss him, breathe him in like a drug. 

Tsuna tilts his head even closer. Whispers, “Gokudera-kun, can I…”

_Yes_.

It doesn’t matter what the question is; Hayato will always say yes.

Before his boss has a chance to finish the thought, however, Lambo cannonballs into the pool with a wild yell. 

The resulting splash doesn’t hit them, but it does rock the water into shallow waves, lapping at Hayato’s waist and Tsuna’s calves. It startles them, pulls them out of their moment, reminds them that the world is more than just the two of them and their desire.

Awkward, Tsuna stubs out the cigarette. “...Do you want another?”

Hayato swallows, all too aware of Yamamoto and Sasagawa behind them, keeping the kids busy. Far too aware of how hard he is, how his skin feels over sensitive and his pulse is jumping, gone haywire. He wants, yes, but it’s not a cigarette he craves.

Still, Hayato knows better; the Tenth wouldn’t want him to make a scene, not in front of all the others. He smiles as easily as he knows how and lets the water bob him a little further away, shivering when it makes the hand Tsuna still has in his hair tug and pull until he releases it. “Nah,” he whispers. “Maybe... Maybe later?”

Later, alone, just the two of them -- because another cigarette hand fed to him by his boss might be more than Hayato can reasonably handle. He thinks Tsuna can tell what he’s trying to say, the hope quivering desperately within his words, because when he glances sidelong at him Tsuna’s face is introspective, still like it gets when he’s in the midst of battle, effortless and clever and fearless as possibilities unfold around him. 

It makes him feel exposed, nervous. The little bubble of safety that had surrounded them, the slow intimacy that had held Hayato so captive, feels far away.

“Is that --” Hayato blinks rapidly, all at once uncertain; worried he’s overstepped. That he’s read this situation entirely _wrong_, somehow, because there’s a voice in the back of his head that says that he isn’t good enough for Tsuna, that he can’t ever be enough, and no matter how hard Tsuna has worked to soothe that fear, it still nags at him sometimes. So he flounders for a moment, and then he tries to force his mouth to work, to form the words: “Sorry, that was, uh. I shouldn’t have assumed --”

“Okay,” says Tsuna.

“...Okay?” Hayato asks, and it’s stupid -- _he’s_ stupid -- but the Tenth just smiles at him, small and private, a little shy, and Hayato very nearly comes undone. 

He hangs there for a moment, still clutching Tsuna about the knees but further out, nearly adrift, his legs moving slowly in the water. Then, Tsuna presses fingers that smell like Hayato’s favorite brand against his jaw, a delicate touch, and he says, “Yeah. _Yes_.” and it’s enough to make Hayato buoyant all on his own, entirely effervescent with giddiness, with _hope_. Hayato cannot stop his grin, even though it’s too big, wide enough to crease his cheeks and squinch up his eyes and hurt a little. 

And he can’t stop himself from pushing closer, from murmuring, “Yeah?” all soft and wanting, a little dark and daring. It feels like a risk, but a risk Hayato is finally brave enough to take. To ask for what he wants, to own up to it, to get in close to Tsuna and _tell him_...__

_I want you to kiss me until I’m dizzy with it, Boss._

_I want you to hold me._

_I don’t ever want you to let me go._

But Hayato holds his tongue, because now is not the time, this is not the place. And he hopes Tsuna isn’t annoyed that he’s pushed so far, but thankfully Tsuna just laughs and presses at his upturned face, turning it so that Hayato is looking at the rest of their family, and -- 

“I think the kids might need a little help,” Tsuna murmurs. “Can you -- ?”

“Sure thing,” Hayato says. 

He licks his lips, misses the touch of Tsuna’s fingers on his skin, and doesn’t quite dare to look back at his boss; he tries to will his erection away, instead. Looking at these idiots ought to manage the job quickly, at least. Reluctant, he lets go of Tsuna just as his boss calls softly into the night, voice rich with exasperation: “Ryohei-nii-san, put I-Pin _down!”_

\----

Not half an hour later Hayato hears a security guard coming near. They hustle everyone out of the pool, hissing at each other to hush and stifling giggles. The kids are near exhaustion from the late hour and the exuberance in which they played; Sasagawa has I-Pin slumped on his shoulders. Lambo’s hand is tucked firmly in Tsuna’s, whining faintly about how hungry he is as he stumbles along.

Tsuna gives Hayato a laughing, secret look over the kid’s head, a _What did I tell you?_ kind of glance. Hayato’s heart skips a beat, delighted, eager for the next look, the next touch, for everything that might follow.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to feed the writer! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, :D


End file.
